Move On Already!
by DucksLuck
Summary: Alfred is the poor little prince of a poor little country, but that doesn't stop his father, the king, from lavishing gifts upon him. When his step-siblings all die it is left all up to him to set their ghosts to rest since their father may just have been at the heart of it.


**Summary**

_I'm just a little prince and my siblings are all dead. They were killed by my Father and I swear that I'll put everyone to rest so that my Father never can. They're pigs, all of them._

**MOVE ON**

**Chapter One: Death**

I had heard it was all a lie. That everything given to us was an illusion and that love was fake. Now to say I heard it is a lie in itself because in that moment I felt it. I felt all the lies pierce my heart and break my bone to the marrow. In that moment, all the lies became real and there was nothing within my power I could do to stop it. I died a sad and lonely wretch of a man.

I had one day to accomplish my goal. Steal one item and get out. If I died, who would mourn my death? A few underlings? Perhaps, but that was less than likely. No one should depend on me. My mind is so full of turmoil I can do little, but act like a fool to cover up the nervous twitch that plagues my arms and legs. I grow more and more unstable each and every passing day. It would be foolish to think that I have a future let alone a reason to keep on breathing. Scratch that. I have one measly reason to keep living and that is to extract revenge from the greedy soul that killed my mother.

That night was pitiful. I sat in a closet crying as my mother's killer stabbed her to death on the other half of the door. Her screams curled through the air covering up my whimpers as gore filtered through the door and toward my feet. I regret her death as I regret being born from that man's filthy seed. He and I were never on best of terms after that. He might not have known, but I knew that his tears were fake and that the grey veil he wore at her funeral was nothing to him. She was nothing to him. My mother's precious life was wasted on this man.

He still treated me the same. I was the envy of all my step-siblings. He bestowed rooms of rare treasures upon me. If it was the guilt I will never know. The only reason why he got away with it was because he is the king. The king of a poor little country I couldn't care less about. I think it would do little for me to describe the state of my day to day activities. I am spoiled, yes, but that doesn't mean I like it. I hate everything he gives me. His blasted morning tea that he supposedly picks with care and loving devotion to his son reflects nothing but bad taste. His false pretenses and vague behavior drive me insane. I can't stand the ground he walks upon let alone the occasional greeting we exchange in the hallway. No, there is no way I could ever grow to love this man even if I did once before.

My thin frame is not fragile, but hardy and everything I touch easily shatters from my touch. Few playmates could withstand my energy as a child and that had somehow brought joy to my father's face. He enjoyed watching me out shine my siblings it was almost as if he was watching himself through those glassy green eyes of his. I would occasionally glance his way and find him staring dazedly in my direction thinking God knows what and ignoring my sibling's attempts to catch his attention. My step mothers were all jealous of my favor with the king and would occasionally make life hard for me. I cared little for them though. They were pigs, all of them.

Very little gains favor in my eyes. I can see little to love in the people that surround me. They are all blind to their own faults, yet see all of the darkness hidden within others. They sicken me to the core. I'm glad they all died. Their fate was written out by their actions years ago and their final death has gained favor in my eyes. I felt free when my cousins and a few of my step-siblings were killed in a mild rampage along the border. I felt a weight lift from my shoulders and fly northward to bid their souls goodbye. I can still picture their useless chatter swaying softly in the breeze fluttering by my ear and tickling my fancy just a little bit. They tell me very interesting things. Those ghosts loved to travel down memory lane and remind me of all I had yet to accomplish. They knew nothing of reality and only lived for the past even now they haven't moved on.

**The Author Speaks**

_I have a knack for sad depressing stories don't I… _

_-Duck_

_If you wish for this story to be continued please leave a review or follow this story. After finishing my current work I will then proceed to the one with the most reviews and follows._

**Characters So Far**

_Alfred Kirkland – the young prince of a small kingdom_

_Arthur Kirkland – the king of a small kingdom_

_Ghosts – Alfred's siblings were sent to the border to be killed and even though their death didn't faze him their ghosts will continue to haunt him until their deaths can be avenged._


End file.
